194 MISS BADSWORTH, M.F.H. 



over the cliffs, rolled back before the advancing rays of the 

 newly risen sun. 



As Nature revealed her beauties there may have been 

 other things besides man which were vile, to wit, the re- 

 mains of the thresher-shark which lay at the western extre- 

 mity of the beach and had been a six days' wonder until 

 human olfactory nerves could stand it no longer, bringing 

 in some slight recompense to the men whose nets it had 

 seriously damaged. 



At any rate Victor Bickersdyke added nothing to the 

 scene when he became dimly conscious of a mouth as dry 

 as the Great Sahara and, as he thought, Mrs. Barlow hoot- 

 ing monotonously to him through a steam siren, " If you 

 don't live different perhaps you mayn't never inherit no- 

 thing ". 



If the drunkard finds some degree of satisfaction in intoxi- 

 cation, and such must undoubtedly be the case, it must be 

 sorely discounted by the subsequent reaction. 



Victor Bickersdyke had long since learnt to dread the 

 horrors of the morning, and it was his usual custom to 

 steady himself with a hair of the dog that had bitten him. 

 On this occasion he paused before he rose to search for the 

 black bottle which usually reposed in a cupboard hard by. 

 There was no doubt he was getting shaky ; more than once 

 he imagined he saw something move in the darker corners 

 of the room ; then he looked at the window ; a tinge of blue 

 was already making itself visible through the mist. The 

 boom of the siren sounded weird and depressing. " Curse 

 the thing," Victor said, and then some objects passed and 

 repassed the window, shadowy against the sky ; another and 

 another. Victor tried to count them, but they came from 

 different directions, and he got confused and his eyes ached. 

 Again the siren sounded, and it was too much for the 

 wretched artist's nerves. "Jim-jams, by all that's holy!" 

 he muttered, and covered his head with the bed-clothes, 

 whilst a cold perspiration broke out upon his forehead. 



Mrs. Barlow's words recurred to him ; something must be 



